As if our once-in-a-lifetime trip to the Monaco Grand Prix had not been enough of a proper birthday celebration, we’d decided to follow it up by heading to the Cinque Terre. My sisters didn’t have a preference for which town we stayed in. After a lot of research on my end, I decided to go with Manarola as it was consistently listed as one of the most picturesque. I felt pretty comfortable about my choice after having eliminated the other four for various reasons: Corniglia (too small and not on the water), Monterosso al Mare and Riomaggiore (too big), and Vernazza (too packed with visitors). I absolutely made the correct choice. Manarola is big enough to have some wonderful restaurants and cute shops, but small enough to be peaceful at night. The size of our group necessitated reserving a large lodging. I chose one with a sizable terrazza with picture-perfect views down into town and on to the sea. At least that is what the Airbnb photos led me to believe.

We arrived late afternoon after a day spent on trains, which hugged the Mediterranean Riviera coastline offering either jaw-dropping views or no views at all (tunnels). The towns of the Cinque Terre are car-free, leaving only charming pedestrian streets to wander. They can more easily be accessed via regular ferry service and frequent trains. We landed on the platform in Manarola with nothing but mentally saved Google images creating expectations.

We followed the crowd of travelers from the full train down stairs and then up stairs on the other side of the platform. From there, it was a long tunnel walk to the vantage point on the other side where we were able at last to view Manarola. Much like my experience with Positano, it was love at first sight. The town is set in a narrow valley between two terraced hills and ascends precipitously from the sea, providing dining, shopping, lodging, and grocery options along the way. Part of the town exists to the left when you exit the pedestrian tunnel, closer to the sea, but the majority of the town rises beyond the tunnel on your right.

We met the rental staff for our lodging and began the climb with him to our temporary residence. If you want a view, you have to go high, right? To be honest, I knew the town would be uphill, but I really did underestimate exactly what that meant. To reach our rental, we climbed up the steep, well-paved street from the tunnel, which then rounded a sharp bend and continued up to the town church. Beyond the church, the road ended in a fork, one branch leading to the area where cars were parked behind a gate at the top of the town and the other branch heading up a stairway, wide at the bottom and narrow as you entered the pedestrian street. I never counted the number of steps, but I am certain it was at least 30. It was an insult-to-injury kind of situation.

We had been able to roll and pull our bags for the first part of the uphill journey, but the real muscle work hit when we had to slog 35-45 pound bags up those stairs. You may wonder if we wished we had packed smaller bags, and the answer is of course. Sadly, the trip we had arranged, a combination of F1 race, fancy dinners, and hiking in the Cinque Terre required bigger bags. I mean, you can’t exactly hike the Cinque Terre in a dress and heels, but you wouldn’t want to eat at a Michelin restaurant in Nice in shorts and hiking shoes. Still, we were grateful we were only going to have to traverse the stairs two times with bags during our visit and hoped the daily climbs to the apartment would become easier as the days rolled by.

Our guide led us to our door and showed us how to work the lock and handle. Doors in Europe don’t uniformly unlock and open the way ours do here in the US. With one door in Spain, we had to spin the key three times in the lock to get it to open. Here we had to turn the key and then put the handle in either a 45 degree angle up or a 45 degree angle down depending on if we were locking or unlocking the door. We were worn out from our Grand Prix weekend and our day of travel, so we nodded and said we understood it all and he left. We went in and checked out our digs. There were three bedrooms and three couples, so to keep it fair we drew numbers for the opportunity to choose from the rooms. From there, it was straight onto the terrazza we had fallen in love with through the rental listing. Would it prove as scenic as it had on the Internet? Definitely. I patted myself on the back for my find.

When we had settled into our new environs, we descended into town to get the lay of the land and to find a grocery store from which to purchase food and wine suitable for dinner on a warm, early summer day with a view. We happened upon a gelateria, of course, and some of us (the men) decided to have a pre-dinner snack. You can’t really blame them.

When in Italy, you gelato. Gelato consumption is compulsory before you are allowed to leave Italy. They have sensors at the airport that separate those who have eaten it from those who have not. Those who have skipped out are required to ingest some from an airport vendor before boarding their international flight. This is how they ensure you will return to Italy.

Next up was a stop near the harbor to take in the town from below. It was every bit as picturesque as I had been led to believe. A first Cinque Terre selfie was a must before heading back uphill to the store to choose ingredients for charcuterie and salad, you know, dining-on-the-patio food. I love shopping for groceries in Europe, be it at large open-air markets or small corner stores. Their choices are almost always more fresh and their packaged foods are prepared with better ingredients. So with fresh tomatoes, local cheese, basil, olives, crostini, pesto, salami, prosciutto, mortadella, a few bottles of red wine, and some limoncino in hand, we went home to enjoy the pleasant evening on the terrazza and wait for the sun to set on our introductory day in the Cinque Terre. Oh…and to drink too much and play Never Have I Ever and learn more about each other.